


Black Holidays

by HarteHealer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sisters, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarteHealer/pseuds/HarteHealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays children experience and the one that comes to them in adulthood are vastly different. When three young girls are raised under the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, the holidays take on a quality unique to them. But even the Purebloods can't always get what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1960

**Author's Note:**

> This work was borne from the need to write something specifically related to the holiday season, to ring in December 2013. I also cannot post this without profusely thanking Dallas for her brilliance when it comes to the Black and Lestrange families.

So feared and occasionally respected, no one ever asked the three sisters what traditions their most ancient and noble house maintained during the holiday season. The lucky housemates that received similar invitations were only ever aware that the family appeared in full attendance to every Pureblood gala and Christmas ball every year.

The truth was that such a house bent on all things austere and pure had little interest in the messy brightness so contrary to the name of their bloodline. As young girls, the sisters understood December to be a time of snow and ice, yet somehow brought with it warmth in the public sphere that contended fiercely with the chill that seeped through walls and bones with alarming severity.

In their home, the chill had nothing to fight with as the girls’ parents expected them to keep up with their lessons with the governess, keep quiet when adults spoke, and keep their bedrooms in perfect order just like everything else.

But when they were carted outdoors, into Diagon Alley, there were fairy lights light like bright undulating snakes twinkling around everything. Splashes of deep reds and brilliant greens stood out from the dampness, seeming to scare away the cold bite in the air. Bellowing laughter, lingering hugs, striped scarves in every shade imaginable, and always the overwhelming smell of mistletoe and peppermint. Each sister privately marveled in the energy wrapping around them and no matter how the governess fought to keep them in order, the girls invariably left the Alley with baubles and trinkets, sweets and little strands of lights to smuggle back into their drafty home.

The first time they dared rally together for the season, the three huddled in the eldest’s room with their illicit spoils heaped in a pile on the thick carpet uncertain what they meant to do with them.

“Now what?” the youngest one questioned after a minute of uncomfortable silence. Her plaited blond hair reflected the flickering flames churning in the fireplace. At the tender age of five, she lifted her grey gaze to her two older sisters for guidance.

The two felt their sister’s expectant gaze upon them and shared a glance that communicated their own uncertainties. But they had these treasures and it wouldn’t succeed if they simply shoved them away to forget about. If they’d been bold enough to acquire these things for themselves, they must be strong enough to put them to good use despite the unknown quantities that were their father and mother.

“Decorate our rooms, of course,” the oldest finally answered with a determination in her expression that dared her younger siblings to challenge her authority on the matter.

The middle sister, nearly a spitting image of her older counterpart, glanced from the shimmering things at her feet back to the dark and confident gaze of her older sister. Though Bellatrix had the rule of age on her side to dictate what they should do, Andromeda had the rule of knowledge that would ultimately guide their actions. None of them ever vocalised the truth, of course. The illusion of hierarchy had to be maintained.

“In secret places in our rooms,” she finally stated as she lifted a small wreath from the pile and balancing it between the palms of her hands. “The back of our wardrobes or in—maybe not in our rooms at all.”

As she came to this last conclusion, Andromeda looked up with the spark of an idea in her hazel brown eyes. “What if we choose an unused room on the second floor and make it our own? Use all these to make it up the way we want?”

Looking between themselves, the three sisters understood that their parents never ventured beyond the first floor, considering the second to be too airy and discomfiting. Though they made mention of disliking the girls to explore on the floor it never amounted to more than a few words and distracted glances. Certainly their mother couldn’t much care so long as they kept away and remained quiet.

“No more dawdling then,” Bellatrix insists. “We mustn’t get caught.”

The rest of the evening was spent in a room Bellatrix chose and dictated the decoration of. At nine years of age, she knew she had to be in charge of her sisters or else they’d never learn. Andromeda was privately convinced she was actually smarter than her older sister but the first and last time she had share that particular opinion aloud, she earned a broken wrist for her trouble and a mother furious with her for ever uttering such a thing.

Still, the room became their oasis after that first night. Whenever there was nothing expected of them, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and little Narcissa traipsed up to the second floor room at the end of the corridor on the left. Candles were lit, a fire was carefully crafted between the older two, and over time they collected more items and decorations, adding more whismy and chaos to the interior that felt perfect to the girls.

When they were in that room, Bellatrix became less violent; Andromeda didn’t hide behind her books; and Narcissa felt included.

Of course the peace wasn’t without its own interludes.

“You have to swear you won’t ever let Rodolphus up here, Bellatrix.”

The fact that Andromeda used her sister’s full name illustrated how serious she was in her demand. Bellatrix could only gape for a minute before jumping to her feet and planting her fists against her hips. “That’s not fair! He has every right to be here just as much as you two do.”

“He’s not a Black. He doesn’t live here. So he can’t come in when he visits.” Andromeda refused to shout even though Bellatrix had no such concern.

“I could very well toss you both out of here by your hair and never let you back in. Maybe I’ll make it for just me and Rodolphus!”

“Rodolphus and me,” Andromeda automatically muttered. She regretted it a moment later when her sister’s foot came swinging into her side, knocking the air from her lungs. With a deep grimace of pain, she ran her fingers over her ribs, well-versed at the age of seven at checking for broken bones.

“Stop it!” Narcissa whinged, standing on her short legs and waving her hands in the air between the two as they glared at one another. “Stop. Please!”

Rather than listen to the blonde’s pleas, Andromeda saw an opportunity and turned on the youngest with a severe gaze. “Cissy, do you really want a stuffy little boy ruining our secret place? It’s not like he’ll play with us like he plays with Bells.”

As she said it, Andromeda knew it wasn’t strictly true. Rodolphus always did a fair job at paying as much attention to her and Narcissa as he did to Bellatrix, but she wasn’t above using the manipulation on her sister in order to get her to argue on her side. Andromeda felt the icy glare Bellatrix trained on her but she steamed forward, only having eyes for her little sister.

“This is supposed to be a room just for us three. If we let Rod in here, it won’t be the same right?” Andromeda could see the five year old’s thoughts whirling as quickly as they could to grasp her sister’s reasoning. “And if we let Rod in, then we’d have to let Bastan in too and then it would all far apart.”

Narcissa glanced between Andromeda and Bellatrix, the furrow in her brow screwing up her perfect features as she tried to determine just who to be more afraid of in that moment. But the look on Bellatrix’s face began to shift as well and when Andromeda risked glancing at her older sister and seeing that her words might be having a great affect than she intended, she decided to drive the point home.

“If the boys visit and we let them up here, they’d surely make the parents suspicious of our absence and lead them all here.”

Andromeda knew she had them both by the matching expressions on their faces. It didn’t need to be said what would happen if their mother came upon this place. She had shared her disdain for the festive spirits of the winter solstice enough times to make them all aware just how strongly she would disapprove of their garishly festooned masterpiece. If the Lestranges were in tow in the moment of discovery, the punishment would be doubly severe for embarrassing their mother in front of guests.

The clarity with which each sister understood and envisioned the possibility was a testament to how well they understood and loathed their mother’s temperament. The subject was never debated again.


	2. 1962

The year Bellatrix went off to Hogwarts, Andromeda and Narcissa felt excitement and trepidation in equal measures as the holiday break approached and Bellatrix’ return was imminent. Though they received letters from their older sister at irregular intervals during the fall term, they were brief and vague, as if she had little time to think of her sisters trapped back at home while she was free to do as she pleased and adventuring about the magical castle with Rodolphus in tow.

“Do you suppose she won’t have time for us now that she’s been off to school without us?” Narcissa’s voice didn’t waver as it once used to and Andromeda had to acknowledge that her little sister had fortified herself with surprising alacrity at the age of seven.

“I don’t suppose anything, and neither should you, Cissy. She’s our blood, our sister. She won’t dismiss us simply because she spent a few months away from home waving a wand around like she knows what she’s doing.” Andromeda believed herself to have wise words and the relief that flooded into her sister’s expression was enough for her. There was no use in voicing her own fear.

When the family returned home from Platform 9 ¾ with Bellatrix in tow, the sisters had to wait while the eldest was interrogated on her marks and budding relationships with her Slytherin housemates. Bellatrix volleyed answers back to their questions while maintaining a bored expression Andromeda was convinced she had perfected while away. Narcissa held her hand tightly as they stood by in silence until they were all three dismissed for the evening.

The bored expression was cast over the two younger siblings and the pit of anxiety threatened to swallow Andromeda whole. Yet, the moment their parents vanished from the room and their footsteps down to their private lounge faded off entirely, Bellatrix leapt from her seat, a maniacal grin spreading over her features as she snatched Andromeda’s hand in her own and pulled them along. She didn’t stop yanking Andromeda’s arm from its socket until they were barreling into their room, newly refreshed with the items the younger girls had bundled up during their regular trips out with the governess.

Bellatrix noted the additions but it wasn’t done for her to compliment them and neither of the other girls expected it. What mattered was that their sister, the leader, hadn’t forgotten their tradition and seemed to be embracing it as if she’d never left to begin with.

Andromeda and Narcissa sunk into a pleasant sense of security as their sister dramatically recounted her first months of freedom with the detail that had been remiss from her letters. Giving the girls advice she didn’t realise she was imparting for when they inevitably joined her in the castle and undoubtedly sorted into the same Hogwarts house their family had occupied since Salazar Slytherin molded the place himself.


	3. 1964

Narcissa hadn’t been certain she could tolerate the isolation the year Andromeda stepped onto the Hogwarts Express alongside Bellatrix. As she had stood between her mother and father watching the train pull out of the station with quiet devastation, she prayed that they both returned for the Christmas holidays and joined her in their Festive Room. 

Yet, doubt shadowed her thoughts through the corridors each day at home, gnawing away at her confidence. As they had celebrated Andromeda’s eleventh birthday with the same ritual dinner and evening of subdued gift-giving, Narcissa had felt a distance brood and separate her from her two older siblings. If at all possible, Bellatrix had showed an even stronger desire for Andromeda’s company above Narcissa’s, and as the day had arrived when the two of them would board and abandon her, it had only felt worse.

She wasn’t allowed to complain though. Every year she’d done her best to prove she wasn’t dependent on her sisters’ approval. Of anyone’s approval. She knew that her mother cared least for her between the three. Narcissa possessed more Rosier features in her than Andromeda or Bellatrix, a fact that seemed to disturb Druella. Their mother wanted nothing more than to believe she was a Black by blood, no matter how fruitless the exercise in deception was. The fact that she’d failed to provide her husband with a male heir was a reminder that she didn’t embody the Black ways as wholly as she had hoped. Narcissa was that reminder, ever present and vulnerable to her mother’s misplaced wrath.

Without her sisters in the house that year, Narcissa was laid open to more attack. It had been a difficult autumn for the blonde, but when the first snowfall touched their gardens, Narcissa had raced out to catch a few snowflakes in the palm of her hand and hoped it was snowing for the first time at Hogwarts and Bellatrix was able to get out to enjoy it like she always had.

Andromeda had to sit alongside Bellatrix during the interrogation the evening they both returned from school. She responded promptly and efficiently, as she did in everything, and Narcissa surprised herself in that moment by wishing she was able to sit with them and bear their parents scrutiny rather than stand and witness the experience as an outsider. Her nine-year-old insides ran amok with conflicting feelings toward her sisters’ newly restored presences as they took turns answer the ninety-eighth and ninety-ninth questions. They hadn’t been there to distract their mother from the targeted abuse and she wanted to be angry with them, resent them for getting their time away; playing Gobstones and laughing with new friends. But the elation she also felt knowing they were both back and unable to leave for at least a few weeks made her feel a little dizzy.

As the questioning ended, the girl felt her doubts rise inside her again but the moment Narcissa was carted to their holiday sanctuary, Andromeda’s solid warm hand held in hers and Bellatrix striding just ahead of them with her head held high, she felt her anger melt as easily as snow under the sun. There was no place for that feeling in their safe place and she meticulously memorised the details in the moments she shared with her sisters, locking the warm memories away to survive on once they left again.


	4. 1967

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit and thanks have to go out to Dallas for her creation of Catarina Lestrange and the blessing for me to include her in this chapter. I love the woman. And Dallas, too, of course.

The fragile peace of the Yuletide Room that united the three unique sisters began to fall into a chasm of darkness when Narcissa was in her second year at Hogwarts and Bellatrix was the sixteen year old who thought she could break every rule and get away without consequence. That was when genuine anger seeped through the cracks and muddied everything.

“Cygnus and I simply cannot permit it. She is only sixteen,” Druella stated icily for the third time. The ever-composed Catarina Lestrange sat opposite the woman with a serene smile on her red-painted lips while the three girls stood in the shadows obediently, observing the interaction with rapt attention. Andromeda felt Bellatrix’ nails bite into the flesh of her forearm and distractedly noted the sudden sensation of a warm liquid trailing down over her wrist as she continued to bury her own nails into her sister’s upperarm. There couldn’t be any outbursts of furious objections from their little gallery of three or the attempt to secure Bellatrix a place at the Lestrange Manor for the second half of the winter holiday would be sabotaged no matter how much kind wheedling Rodolphus’ mother did.

Everyone in the room knew that the Lestrange matriarch got under Druella’s skin like no one else could. Despite her composure, her daughters knew the signs: an irregular tick just above her left brow, made more pronounced by the shadows cast by the flickering fire; white knuckles bent on shattering the porcelain tea cup in her clawed hands; and the pinch at the corners of her mouth as if she’d bitten into something decidedly sour. Druella Rosier was rattled.

Setting her own cup down on the trolley beside their seats, Catarina seemed unperturbed by the other woman’s continued refusal. “Druella, if you are concerned for your daughter’s maidenhood, you need not worry.”

Andromeda clenched her jaw against the pain that doubled in her arm as she glanced over at her sister knowingly. Narcissa’s gaze sought her oldest sister out as well. Even Druella spared the girl a glance for a moment before redoubling her efforts to dissuade the woman from her request. Druella may not have known in that moment but Andromeda and Narcissa were well aware that any concern for Bellatrix’ virginity was long overdue. There was nothing anyone could do about it then.

“The concern is more in upholding the traditions of our bloodline but the reminder of that risk is dully noted.”

“I do not wish to tread on the traditions of your prestigious bloodline but I must remind you that the arranged marriage dictates that your daughter will take up the Lestrange name, become mistress to the Lestrange holdings, and carry on the Lestrange bloodline and traditions.”

Andromeda didn’t miss the vicious grin that bloomed on her sister’s face even as she witnessed her mother’s tick grow more pronounced as the colour drained from her face.

“We will look after your daughter as if she were our own, as she one day will be. My husband and I wish for Bellatrix to get accustomed to the Manor and the traditions of our family even now. The bond between my son and your daughter must be strong. I am sure you understand.” Catarina rose from her seat and by the time she turned to acknowledge Bellatrix, the girl had torn her fingers out of Andromeda’s arm and deftly wiped away the blood left on her nails.

The smile the woman imparted on the three of them was so genuine it took all three of them by surprise. For a second Andromeda was helplessly trapped in the thought that that was what a real mother’s smile looked like and what it felt like to be the recipient. It was a foreign feeling but not unwelcome. When the regal woman turned her attention back to Druella, the absence of such a smile left a hollowness in Andromeda’s chest.

As soon as they were dismissed, Bellatrix broke away in search of Rodolphus as Andromeda and Narcissa knew she would. No doubt he was enjoying the far more civil relations between his father and theirs. As Bellatrix’ dark hair disappeared around the corner, Andromeda reached her hand toward Narcissa only to drop it just as quickly back to her side. The impulse was strong but her little sister had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t a child anymore and refused to be handled as one.

“Do you think we should follow her?” Andromeda questioned aloud.

The shrug that Narcissa gave in return was graceful rather than uncouth on her. “It wouldn’t make a difference, really. You know she’ll simply ignore us or shout at us to leave her be.”

Rodolphus was in their home and that was all that mattered to Bellatrix at the moment. Despite her vocal denial of emotional attachment, it wasn’t hard for her sisters to see through her façade. Of course while they were ensconced at Hogwarts, Bellatrix’ preoccupations didn’t concern her sisters overly much. Narcissa had her own relationships to cultivate and Andromeda was caught up in navigating school without drowning in her contradicting thoughts.

“Perhaps Rabastan has tired of adult conversation and will entertain us,” Narcissa offered lightly.

Andromeda nodded. Though Rabastan wasn’t her favourite person, it would be far better than escaping into the library only to be chastised for being unsociable yet again. The sisters strode toward the drawing room where they knew the men to be, certain that Bellatrix and Rodolphus had already come up with an excuse to be alone. However, just outside the closed doors, Andromeda felt a feeling wash over her, a jolt of unease that shivered down her spine.

“Cissy.”

The blonde glanced at her sister, concern evident in her gaze but Andromeda couldn’t articulate her feeling. With a gasp, she simply knew.

“Andy—” Narcissa’s hand was held aloft and useless as the middle sister turned on her heel and headed for the staircase at a pace just shy of a jog. As she watched her sister’s tension radiate from her in nearly palpable waves, the twelve year old sighed and slowly followed after. She never could quite read her bookish sister these days but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep after her anyway.

Andromeda wasn’t aware that Narcissa chose to trail after her. She was only intent on putting her nerves to rest. But with each step she took up to the second floor, the deeper the pit grew and the hungrier it became, snatching up her hope and reassurances too easily. Yet the pit couldn’t prepare her for the sight she laid eyes upon when she shoved open the door to their room.

What had once been a brightly lit room with the most absurdly coloured decorations and collected Christmas oddities was a shadow of its former self. It had lost its flare over the years as the girls had grown up and found less and less appeal in the chaotic colours. But the lack of decour hadn’t been the binding force of the room, not since they were young. Though it had never been said aloud, each of them had been well aware that their own desire for a place to share and protect together had been what kept them going back year after year.

The glaring wrongness of the room Andromeda looked in on wasn’t pinned to the shredded tinsel or the questionable mold creeping over the wreaths in the far corner. What consumed the girl’s vision was the sight of her sister pressed into one of the overstuffed cushions they’d acquired, letting Rodolphus Lestrange silence her mouth with his. Dried mistletoe began to crumble between Bellatrix’ fingers where she gripped at her lover’s back, trying to pull him closer.  
The very rare stirring of rage began to flood Andromeda’s system as she barked, “Rodolphus get off of her! Now!”

She had forgiven her sister for countless things she’d done in the past, but in that moment, Andromeda was certain she would never forgive her for this. She strode into the room as the two broke apart. Rodolphus was mystified by the murderous look on Andromeda’s face but she bore him no mind. She knew he couldn’t be at fault for this. He hadn’t know. He couldn’t have. And a part of her was certain that if he had, he wouldn’t have let this happen. He had respect for other people and their wishes, something Andromeda knew then that her sister cared nothing for.

“You have ruined it,” Andromeda seethed as she stood over her sister. “Everything.”

Bellatrix had the audacity to look smug from her position the floor. “Stop being such a child and grow up, Andy. You’re just jealous.”

There was a small gasp at the doorway; Narcissa caught up to everything unfolding in the room. Andromeda didn’t register the sound over her own internal scream just before she kicked out, catching her sister in the side. The sick irony of the situation didn’t escape the fourteen year old as Bellatrix gripped her side and struggled to get to her feet.

“Don’t bother getting up, sister,” the words dripped like sweet poison from her lips. “All you’re good for is lying on your back like a muggle whore.”

“Andy!” It was Narcissa that protested in shock. Andromeda felt just as stunned by her own words as everyone else the moment they left her mouth and she slowly backed away at the black expression consuming Bellatrix’ visage. The whiplashes of fury had vanished, leaving a dull ache like betrayal that stuck to Andromeda’s insides as she quickly made a retreat. If there was a remedy for this, the middle sister had a feeling it would be difficult to find.


	5. 1980

Andromeda finished the last dredges of her cigarette before flicking it into the snow drift along the side of the house and stomped back inside through the kitchen door. The fresh snow melted in her hair but she simply brushed the fringe out of her eyes and ignored the stares of the house-elves as she passed on her way out into the corridor.

The smell of tobacco smoke clung to her scarf and she inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the clanging anxiety in her chest. Bellatrix was the one who got her started on the cigarettes and even though she knew she should quit—for more than one reason—being back in the family home and about to do something incredibly dangerous forced her out into the freezing outdoors to settle herself, if only for five minutes.

By the time she arrived at the door, Andromeda felt slightly warmer and on firmer ground with her own resolve, yet she was washed cold when she overheard the trailing conversation through the crack in the door.

"I cannot believe she insisted we meet her in this room of all places."

"It has a sentimental value, Bella."

"Three years ago, it lost all the value it might have had left."

"At least try to cooperate. You know she hasn't been herself lately. Perhaps this meeting is a good thing."

"Regardless what this is about, she had better turn up soon and get straight to the point. I am wasting valuable time away from my husband."

"Of course."

A deep breath that felt more like a gasp for air sent Andromeda forward through the door. As soon as her gaze adjusted to the firelight, she looked at her sisters seated in armchairs Bellatrix must have transfigured from the dusty cushions. For a moment, the three sisters were caught in a terrible silence. Andromeda couldn't help but gaze over Bellatrix, a woman of nineteen now with Rodolphus as her husband. A Lestrange. The great look of disinterest on her face spoke volumes of how deteriorated their relationship had become over the past three years and the knowledge of what might come of their meeting now sent an icicle of longing through her heart. Andromeda wanted her bossy and overprotective older sister back, not the cold woman presented before her now.

"I hope you asked us both here to inform us that you're actually fucking women," Bellatrix drawled, clearly looking for a rise, "because that is the only explanation for your atrocious hair."

Andromeda's fingers rose to brush against the shortened ends of her dark hair and she refrained from retorting back for the sexual comment. Feeding into the acerbic bait-and-switch antagonism she and her older sister were accustomed to now would only make this worse and inky dread already leaked through her veins as she stood at her tallest. She was here for the person she had cut all her hair off for and she couldn't let her sister derail her.

"No, Bellatrix," she answered. "I asked you both here because I do have something important to tell you."

Bellatrix' raised eyebrow spoke what her mouth kept inside. You don't say.

When she began chewing at the inside of her cheek rather than speaking, Narcissa leant forward, offering, "Andromeda, whatever it is, simply tell us. We're here for you."

"Yes, Andromeda. Like a kick in the ribs."

Choosing to ignore the comment, Andromeda opened her mouth and let the words tumble out in a rush. There was no composure as she spoke. "I'm engaged."

Blinking, Bellatrix began to laugh. "Of course you are. Matthias Greengrass. Please, Andromeda, stop wasting our time."

But before Andromeda could fashion a retort, Narcissa beat her there. "Bellatrix. Keep your mouth shut and let her speak." When the blonde returned her gaze to the only sister in the room standing, the emotion shining behind her grey eyes was undefinable but Andromeda knew she hated it, whatever it was.

"No, not that prat," she finally stated as she tore her gaze away and found a better patch of worn carpet to speak toward. "No—I'm engaged to Edward—Ted—Tonks. He proposed to me at Hogsmeade the day before—"

"No!" Andromeda's gaze was wrenched from the carpet at her sister's heated exclamation. Bellatrix stood with her wand drawn, pointed at the other brunette's chest. "I know exactly who that filthy mudblood is and no matter what I think of you at the moment, you are my sister and you will not destroy yourself like this."

Narcissa rose slowly, standing between her sisters and feeling the familiar tugging tension she experienced growing up. Except this time the decision she knew she had to make wasn't simply between one sister or the other. The weight in this decision was clear and heavy on her shoulders. Rather than look at either sister, Narcissa stared for a moment at the opposite wall where a large wreath still clung stubbornly to the wall, eaten away in places but still circling drawings they had done as children of what they each believed Saint Nicholas to look like. The thought crossed her mind that she was only fifteen. She shouldn't have to decide her place in the world in this very moment. It wasn't fair to ask it of her. Where had all the true magic gone from their lives?

"I'm not destroying myself or anyone else," she heard Andromeda say. "I'm in love. Perhaps you don't know what that feels like."

"Don't dare to assume what I know of love. This has nothing to do with your silly notion of what love is. You have a reputation and a duty to this family and I will not stand by and let you run it through the mud. I will strike you down if I have to. Whatever you had with that cockroach will end."

Andromeda's bark of laughter jumped from her throat like shards of glass. "You sound just like Mother. Have you really lost your soul, Bellatrix?"

"That is quite enough!" Narcissa's sharp words sliced through the buffeting fury in the room. Pinning Bellatrix with a stare, she spoke into the sudden silence. "Bellatrix, it is the holidays. We are meant to be enjoying each other's company and entertaining guests. Whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, you once valued this holiday, this room, and you valued Andy. Don't throw it away so quickly."

Her gaze turned on Andromeda just as quickly though her expression was less harsh and more imploring as she addressed her other sister. "Please, Andy. Consider carefully what you will be risking if you do this. And for the moment, put the decision aside and focus on being here with us."

Beneath the rage she projected at Bellatrix, Andromeda was truly near tears. Though she had anticipated resistance, she had hoped that something remained of her bond with Bellatrix under the snark and snipe they'd reduced their relationship to over the past several years. This reality was far harsher than the one she'd imagined and held onto so tightly the entire train ride back home two days earlier.

"I cannot believe this room only grows worse every time I'm in it," Bellatrix snapped as she dropped her wand arm and stepped around Narcissa toward the door. She came to a halt when she stood abreast with Andromeda and leaned in toward her, eyes bright with tightly contained fire. "If you sought my blessing, Andromeda, know that you will never have it. There is still time for you to fix it all and bury this deviance."

Bellatrix made it to the doorway before she paused, unwilling to leave the room without making certain she cut her sister down most effectively for the past pains she'd caused. Without turning to face them, she challenged, "Who's the muggle whore now?"

What Bellatrix didn't voice was the pent up emotions choking her inside. Hurt that Andromeda would go to such lengths to prove her defiance, anger and resentment, and even a strong dose of self-loathing. She was the oldest and she should have done better than this for her sisters. Her sisters couldn't see these things and Bellatrix strode from the room with her jaw clenched against all the things she couldn't say. The only option left to her now was to seek Rodolphus out, leech comfort from his embrace, and hope he would have advice she could take before things became irreparable.


	6. Malfoys: 1982

The fresh evergreen garland spiraled perfectly down the balustrade, joint with a single length of fairy lights. Standing at the top of the white marble staircase leading to the front foyer, the youngest sister listened to the peals of laughter that resonated from the drawing room. Her fingers played idly with the thin needles the house-elves so carefully crafted as she forcibly reminded herself that she had every reason to be happy this holiday season. This home, her new home, was enchanting and inviting in a way her most ancient and noble home never could have been.

Yet the blonde knew she didn't have every reason. She couldn't be swept into the enchantment like she wished she could. There were reasons she shouldn't be happy. Two very distinct ones.

The two faces swam to the front of Narcissa Malfoy's thoughts but she didn't get the chance to linger on the why's and the regrets. The laughter renewed and grew louder as a little person came careening out of the drawing room, effectively shattering the woman's internal struggle. The little boy was strapped astride an imitation broom, feet swinging enthusiastically a thirty centimetres above the ground. His childish laughter made Narcissa's heart clench painfully but she tried to find a smile for him and her husband as the man's deeper rumble of laughter mingled in the air. He stepped out of the drawing room to watch his son, pleased with himself as he turned his attention to his wife.

"Cissa, come down and let Draco show you how talented he is," he insisted with a wide smile that reminded the woman why she loved him.

Narcissa began her dissent to the ground floor as she kept a wary eye on her son's teetering trajectory across the cold marble entranceway. The small frown on her face didn't leave as she came to stand at her husband's side and said, "I still cannot fathom why you would give our son such a dangerous toy. He's only two."

Lucius shook his head, having heard her protestations too many times already. "No son of mine is going to be inept on a broomstick. Look at him, he loves it."

"Mummy, I'm going to reary fly one day," Draco announced as he tried to figure out how to stop before he collided with his mother's legs. Lucius caught him before the accident could give credence to his wife's concerns and set him to rights.

Narcissa refrained from grimacing at hearing her son fail yet again to pronounce his l's. Instead, she crouched to be level with him, affording him a loving smile as she reached out and rearranged his tousled white-blonde hair. "Of course you will, little dragon. And I'll be stricken terrified every second you're in the air."

Draco simply beamed in return. "Okay mummy!" Then he was swaying away as the broom gained momentum again.

When Narcissa was again standing beside her husband, the man wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss against her hair. "Happy Christmas, dear."

The earnest tone to his gentle words told Narcissa what she already knew. He wanted nothing more for her to enjoy her time with them without being reminded of everything they had fought for and lost. Every year since they were both fifteen Lucius had done nothing but attempt to brighten her holidays and crowd out the bitter memories that cloaked her like a shroud. She told him every year that it was a big help, and it wasn't a lie, but Narcissa knew that nothing would ever scrape away the years of shouting, broken glass, and wartime madness.

"Your sister will be here soon and I still have one last gift just for you, love." Lucius' voice drew Narcissa back to the present moment and she turned to him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her eldest sister and her husband came to visit them every Christmas since the war ended, and sometimes even during; a tradition she appreciated even though it hurt every time. Bellatrix wasn't the woman Narcissa had once thought she would grow to be. Hardened by the departure of their middle sister, by the war she zealously fought in, Bellatrix had done things Narcissa at one time thought her sister incapable of doing. Anticipating their arrival and looking forward to it were very different things.

Narcissa looked expectantly at Lucius but his vivid blue eyes were guarded as he produced a small wrapped box and held it out for her to take. Without speaking, the twenty-seven year old carefully took the gift into her hands and began to peel away the paper to reveal what was underneath.

A black lacquered oak trinket box was what she found herself admiring once all the paper had been removed. The sides were carved with an intricate pattern of spirals and points but what intrigued her was the infinity symbol carved on the top. The woman looked to her husband only to find him staring resolutely after their son, expression stoic and reserved. The fact that Lucius wouldn't watch her open the box made her uneasy. With a flick at the latch, the box opened on smooth hinges and inside was a photograph that took Narcissa's breath away.

The brick-faced house was wedged between two identical houses on either side. A lattice of ivy encroached on the left corner of the house, seeming to embrace the bay window on the ground floor. Every narrow windowpane was encircled with fairy lights that didn't seem to have actual fairies in them. The little glass lights also lined the portcullis and a healthy green wreath hung over the black door.

Standing in front of the short fence that marked off the small front lawn were a woman and man, smiling wide and waving at the photographer with a young girl wedged between them just as tightly as their home was. The man's dark hair was short and parted by a headband that protruded stuffed antlers. The woman's dark hair fell long and heavy around her shoulders with a shimmering red ribbon tied at her hairline. The young girl's smile was tight as she brushed choppy stands of her red and green hair out of her face and glanced down at the large sweater she was clearly forced to wear, a knitted monstrosity of yellow and red with a large 'N' in the middle. The expression on the girl's face made it clear she was prepared to burn the thing if she didn't have to wear it for the photograph. Both the woman and man were wearing ones as well; grey 'A' on forest green for the woman and purple 'T' that stood out against the vibrant yellow that made up the rest of sweater clothing the man; whose hold on his daughter's shoulder tightened ever so slightly as she squirmed.

Narcissa was fixated on the woman in the photo. Her hazel brown eyes were bright and wide, expressive in the way they had always been. As she smiled and waved, she glanced down at her feisty ten-year-old daughter and the expression in the woman's face was one of pride and love that Narcissa understood well. When the woman returned her gaze to the camera, Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth with surprise at the new depth of emotion reflected from the photographed woman's eyes.

It was only a moment. Brief before the smile and cheer was looped back into place, but Narcissa saw the reflection of pain and longing. The look called out to the matching emotions compressing Narcissa's insides. The sight of such sorrow brought the question unbidden to the blonde: how did she ever let her sister slip away from her?

Narcissa could almost feel the cool and supporting hand Andromeda had always given her when they were children. And just as quickly the ghost sensation left her and she returned her attention fully to the holiday photograph.

This time, Narcissa looked closely at the niece she could never know. It took the woman a moment to recall what the bold yellow N on her sweater stood for but it did come to her: Nymphadora. A metamorphmagus, if the rumours were to be believed. The evidence in the photo made the rumour fact when Narcissa watched as the girl's eyes moved through a spectrum of colours from green to red and back again. Given the rare ability, Narcissa reminded herself that she couldn't easily distinguish a Black feature in the girl but she did witness the way she twisted her lips with indignation, nearly identical to the movement she'd memorised on Andromeda's face at a similar age.

She noticed a second photograph beneath the holiday card and with careful fingers Narcissa lifted the first photo. Her eyes widened at the sight of an infant, swaddled and flushed with mouth wide open issuing a silent wail. At first Narcissa wasn't certain she understood the significance of the baby until the brown swaths of hair—notably similar to the shade of Andromeda's own, she realised—suddenly became an alarming shade of pink.

"Oh my," Narcissa caught herself murmuring aloud.

A hand suddenly clutched at the skirt of her gown and Narcissa was jarred from the contents of the small box to find her son staring up at her, safely off his toy broom. "Mummy, what have you gots?"

"Another present from your father, dear," Narcissa answered carefully as she let the lid fall closed with a resonating snap. "If you behave and let your aunt and uncle fuss over you during their visit then perhaps I'll show you."

"Arright." Draco nodded and then strode on his little legs back into the drawing room to fish out another one of his gifts from under the ten foot Christmas tree.

Narcissa took the opportunity to face her husband, whose thin lips were pressed together tightly. She understood that acquiring these photographs for her hadn't been easy and she wouldn't ask how he accomplished it. He'd done it solely for her, as he had little interest in the sister who shamed the Black family.

The woman lifted her hand to caress Lucius' jaw, forcing him to hold her gaze as she breathed, "Thank you." The emotions thick in her chest were a tangled mess she didn't dare make sense of at the moment.

There was no secret room here, no need to hide silly decorations from disapproving parents. There were also no bonds of sisterhood; no secret smiles and jokes. The only thing left to do was hold on tightly to the family she'd made for herself and hope that Andromeda was doing same. Narcissa had to believe that her sister was as happy as the photograph suggested.


	7. Tonks: 1982

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just might be my favourite chapter of the whole story.

The disenchanted Pureblood woman shoved her way in the door of her home, laiden with parcels and bags full to overflowing with the week's groceries. The lime green healer robes she hadn't had time to shed smelt of a questionable mixture of bodily fluids she consciously tried not to notice. The warning signs of a headache were pestering her and she opened her mouth to call for assistance when a head appeared from the entrance to the den.

"Presents!"

Andromeda's daughter barreled down the hall. Following after her at a more sedate pace was her father, shaking his head at the girl's overwhelming enthusiasm as she came to a halt before her mother and negotiated taking the wrapped parcels from her arms. No matter how many years they receive the same gifts, the girl never failed to anticipate something new and different.

"We're opening them right now, right?" Nymphadora questioned. Her voice rose as she questioned again, looking between her parents and shifting from foot to foot. "Right?"

It was only December tenth but these gifts were requested early and opened upon delivery for a very important reason.

"Hand the gifts to your father and take these groceries to the kitchen first. Then you can have your present," Andromeda answered as she held the paper bags out with the expectation that her daughter would obey.

With a sigh, the demanding ten year old nodded. Ted took the stack of shimmering parcels from the girl with a head of brilliant red and green hair and watched as she collected the groceries into her arms before striding away with a unique cross between a pout and a frown on her face.

"Be careful, Dora. Your face just might stick that way," he called out to her. The raspberry noise he got in response made him laugh heartily as he held his wife's gaze.

Andromeda smiled as she tried to will the knots out of her weary muscles. "What will we do when she goes off to school next year? It will be so quiet."

The wide grin that took over Ted's face as he drew his wife into a warm embrace was anything but innocent and Andromeda realised why a moment later when she heard him respond against her hair. "Oh, I'm certain we can make plenty of noise just between the two of us."

Fingers clutching at his back as she hugged him back, Andromeda couldn't help but laugh even as a spiral of heat wound its way down her spine. She meant to make a reply when Ted suddenly pulled away and stated, "I'm sorry but you smell."

The moment was entirely behind them as Andromeda rolled her eyes. "I'm well aware. I'm also cold and if I don't get a warm cup of tea soon the threat of a headache will take over entirely." The eyebrow that arched sharply at Ted told him that her statement was a request meant to be heeded.

"Right this way." He offered his arm and Andromeda took it, knowing that there was nothing she could do but love this man and his endless supply of humour. "Make way for the Queen, Princess Dora! She needs a big cup of tea and a bath. In that order!"

The woman felt a strong urge to press her face into her hand but she refrained. But when her daughter responded in kind to her father's grandiose play-acting, she didn't fight it any longer.

"Are you sure we have enough teabags for a whole bathtub?"

As she was lead into the kitchen and handed a cup of tea the two of them had clearly prepared for her before she arrived, Andromeda couldn't help but take a moment to understand just how fortunate she was. The unbridled enthusiasm her husband and daughter held for the holiday season far exceeded her own and every year she couldn't help but get swept into the spirit with them. Her small home was always warm and smelt of all the sweet things she'd inhaled deeply as she stared wide eyed at the decorations in Diagon Alley as a child.

She did enjoy herself. Andromeda wouldn't deny that. But the warmth and love that surrounded her every year could only reached so far beneath the woman's skin. There was still a cold stone wedged at the centre of her being that couldn't be touched by Ted's playfulness, Nymphadora's embraces, or Molly's delicious cooking.

When she heard her husband state softly that he was going to draw a bath, Andromeda realised she had let her dark thoughts show in her face, standing unmoving in the middle of the kitchen. She blinked but Ted was already striding down the hall, headed for the stairs and Nymphadora silently began unloading the food from the paper bags and putting them away.

"Nym—" she began, but her daughter cut her off, pinning her with such a caring look in her currently mismatched eyes that Andromeda felt a mix of emotions burn in her throat. "It's okay, mum. Really. Drink your tea so you can have a nice bath. We've got presents to open."

Andromeda let out a sigh as she nodded and lifted the cup to her lips, finally unsticking herself from the spot to take her drink into the small dining room. The fact that there were moments like these, especially during the holidays, made the twenty-nine year old ache for more control over her emotions. At one time she believed herself to be in control of everything, especially her emotions. She had to consider the possibility that she began to lose that semblance of control the moment she allowed Ted in.

"The bath is ready and I promise there's no tea," Ted loudly informed the house as he descended from the first floor.

She did smile then and it felt only half forced. Then she made her way up the narrow staircase and down the hall to the bathroom with her tea still in hand. When she entered, the smell that met her began to undo the knots between her shoulders almost immediately. Potions had never been Ted's strongest subject in their school years but he did know how to drop tinctures of lavender and patchouli into her bath water.

Andromeda's time in the bath wasn't as long as she would have liked but she didn't want to leave her daughter waiting impatiently. She made her way back down to the ground floor in fresh clothes and entered the den to find Nymphadora and Ted where she expected them to be; Ted was secured between the overstuffed arms of his favourite chair while her daughter knelt on the floor in front of the three gifts, staring intently as if she could see through the wrapping paper.

"Open it," Andromeda said.

The sound of shredding paper drowned out the crackle of the fire burning brightly in their fireplace for several seconds before Nymphadora pulled the box open to reveal a bold red knitted sweater with a yellow 'N' at the centre. Andromeda watched her daughter's expression carefully as the girl pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and drew the sweater out of its box.

They each got one every year. As did several other dear friends of Molly Weasley. The colours she chose were always different and Andromeda appreciated the fact that she and her family were considered deserving of such personally crafted gifts. Her daughter, however, didn't always see it in the same light.

"Red and yellow this time," she commented evenly. "Do you think she's trying to say something about school?"

Ted answered his daughter as he rose from his seat and approached to collect his own gift from the last two left. "Considering who your parents are, I think Mrs Weasley simply wanted to keep things fair."

Andromeda liked her husband's answer and felt comfortable not adding her own comment. Ted passed her the other perfectly wrapped box before he opened his and revealed his own monogrammed sweater in royal purple with a yellow 'T' two shades lighter than the yellow of Nymphadora's.

"Wait a minute." Andromeda was preparing to open her own and find out which colours Molly had chosen for her this year when her daughter's exclamation stopped her. She looked up just as the young girl snatched something from the bottom of the box and held it up for her parents to see. "There's three tickets to the next Chudley Cannons match against the Wollongong Wombats!"

Nymphadora began to whoop and cheer, grabbing Ted by the hands and allowing him to fling-dance her across the carpet. In the midst of the mini-celebration, Andromeda turned her attention to her sweater gift with a small smile playing on her lips. She carefully unwrapped and opened the box to examine the forest green creation with a heather grey 'A' knitted with affection.

Andromeda had to concede to herself that Molly Weasley had become like an older sister to her in the absence of the ones she once had. It didn't fill the hole where her two sisters were meant to occupy in her life but it did smooth the frayed edges just a smidgen. Each year, Andromeda convinced herself that the chasm that stretched between herself and her sisters hurt a little bit less but the self-deception was washed away with a fierce wave of painful nostalgia and bottomless regret each holiday season. Despite her best efforts to drown it out, the acidic words of her older sister writhed into her thoughts during the month of December: Who's the muggle whore now? Bellatrix had always known how to throw her own heated words back in her face when she least expected it. Andromeda knew just how satisfied Bellatrix would be with herself if she knew that her words haunted her younger sister. The fact that her muggle husband still didn't know about those words was further testament to Andromeda's own muddled feelings on the whole thing.

There was nothing for it though. Dwelling only bled her dry and afforded her no comfort. Andromeda knew instinctively that she made the right decision when she chose her heart over her family. All she had to do was look into her husband's sea-blue eyes or watch Nymphadora sleeping in her bed to know that having them made her happier than she could have ever hoped for had she stayed within the fold of her most ancient and noble house. The pain she felt was her private punishment for dismantling the bond that began in that childhood secret room but she could not and would not let it destroy the people she still had in her life.

"Arthur let us borrow his camera this year so we should take our family photograph now before it gets too dark," Andromeda announced as she stood from her seat. "Then we can start dinner and you can fire call Mr Weasley to thank him for the generous gift, Dora. Sweaters on now."

Nymphadora let out a small groan but snatched her sweater from the floor regardless. Mixing magic with muggle tradition, they fashioned holiday letters for friends and Ted's family each year which always include a family photograph in proper holiday cheer. After dragging her own sweater over her head, Andromeda took in the profusion of holiday decorations covering every surface imaginable in her small home and reasserted to herself that some traditions were still important for families to uphold.


	8. Lestranges: 1982

PART 8  
1982

The eldest sister stood before her wardrobe, seemingly considering the choices before while truly failing to navigate a labyrinth of prickly emotions that climbed, crawled, and clawed over and inside her that had everything to do with the fact that it was Christmas day and nothing to do with the contents of her wardrobe.

Even during the height of the war, the distractions she filled her time with couldn't shove out the tumult of emotions that knocked about inside her as the winter solstice emerged. If she had to pinpoint a time when the feelings took over completely, it would have to be the day after the first snow. Almost every time. And every time, it hurt just as freshly as if it were reoccurring in that moment. Every memory bowled her over and sent her usually single-minded thoughts into a frenzy that stung at every corner of her being.

Blame fired off hot and scalding in every direction, targeting her mother, Andromeda, even Narcissa in smaller measure. However, the iron rod of self-blame slammed Bellatrix down the hardest. She was the oldest, something everyone made her distinctly aware of during her formative years. She 'd had a responsibility to both of her sisters and rather than rising to the challenge of looking after her charges, she let one slip away by playing ignorant and forced the other to fend for herself when she could have held her hand.

When she felt the self-loathing begin to paint a bloody picture of her shortcomings and failures, Bellatrix always turned her internal rage on Andromeda, on the rag of a man she abandoned her for. She was the one who ruined everything; shattered their world and brought all these unwanted emotions upon her. At least that was what Bellatrix had to tell herself, even as the bitter aftertaste of regret held her heart in a vice grip and refused to let go. In the singular moments she would allow herself to be vulnerable to the truth, she knew that the moment her preciously brilliant sister first stepped away from their family was the same moment when Bellatrix violated their unspoken pact to keep boys out of their secret room. It boiled down to that one devastating mistake she had made and could never take back.

Though Bellatrix would never admit to aloud, her thoughts betrayed her confidence: she missed Andromeda wit, her thirst for new knowledge, and her ability to anticipate her older sister's moods. Bellatrix missed Narcissa's positivity, her laughter, and more than anything, she missed Narcissa's trust and faith in her oldest sister. When she was being entirely honest with herself, Bellatrix missed her sisters being dependent on her, but that was one thing she had lost long before things began to run foul.

Too ensnared by her torrential emotions, she didn't hear him enter their room. She only became aware the second his hands alight against her hips, drawing her into the firm warmth of his chest.

"If you stand there any longer, we'll be terribly late and Draco will be convinced we chose to horde away his gifts for ourselves and never visit him again." Rodolphus' warm breath carried with it the smell of mint after having cleaned his teeth. His lips pressed against her neck, resting against her skin for a moment, and then another before he lifted his head and rested his chin against her curls.

"I'm certain he'd move on if we did just that," she answered. There was less certainty in her words than she wanted and it only served to rankle her already dark mood further.

Rodolphus only hummed in return, content to stay where he was and hold his wife while she undoubtedly tore through her past in search of her usual unflappable stability. He could count on one hand the number of times she has expressed what was she went through during this time of year but whether she spoke to him or suffered in silence, it made no difference to him. He knew what his wife needed and he gave it in abundance without ever asking for anything in return.

Rodolphus' next words, barely above a whisper, slipped through Bellatrix' consciousness like a flame melting through shadows. "Te amo, mi amour."

Grabbing hold of that flame like the life line that it was meant to be, the eldest sister forcibly shoved her horrendous mess of emotions away. She had more than herself to think of, no matter how she might have felt otherwise. She and Rodolphus had made a commitment to tradition and though she was at fault for sowing the seed that destroyed one tradition she once held dear to her, she would be damned if she was responsible for the ruin of another.

"No matter how much I love you in return, saying so will not keep us punctual," Bellatrix stated as she swiftly reached forward and chose a deep scarlet dress Catarina had sent a week earlier. She was thirty-one and had a nephew to please. "Whatever Draco might feel if we were late, Cissa is another thing entirely."

When she turned in the circle of his arms with the gown in hand, Rodolphus finally moved, taking her face between his hands and kissing her deeply, conveying every word and nuanced emotion he could only express in the action. When he broke away several minutes later, there was a smile on Bellatrix' lips and a renewed spark in her dark brown eyes. So long as she could still possess that one expression, they would both continue be okay.


	9. 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays.

Death crowded in, intangible and frightening, that heated night in May. Everyone knew it was present but no one paid it any mind until the rubble finally settled and it was discovered that Death had left a mark on the souls of the living, heedless of whether they had been branded by a crazed man or not.

The pressure of such a mark on one's soul could send a person in unexpected directions in search of relief.

Every night after that god-awful day, Narcissa spent her nights plagued by the feeling of her eldest sister's fingers cold and still in her own trembling ones. She was plagued with the sight of a young woman her sister had killed, taking her other sister's only child away from her without hesitation. They had both been laid in the Great Hall where Narcissa had to see and valiantly fight the threat of tears that would have surely embarrassed her husband and son then. However, with Lucius' absence from the Manor after his incarceration came the absence of sleep, peace, rest, security for Narcissa; and those tears sought their revenge. She was very nearly convinced she was suffering from the absence of her sanity, as well.

Instead, haggard and clearly broken, her son began to administer her strong brews of Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draught. The fourty-three year old mother felt a burning sense of failure every time she had to watch his wounded expression as he made certain she swallowed every drop of the potion. She had failed to keep her sisters and she now failed to protect and mend the shattered pieces that were her son, her precious dragon.

Narcissa knew she must use the false sense of ease that each Calming Draught afforded her in order to find peace with the deaths she witnessed. The deaths she felt she needed to be atoned for. It took every ounce of her stubborn Black blood to find the strength within herself to face the reality of her life, the gaping holes like open maws that mocked her inability to reconcile past wounds. But inch by inch, she came to terms with the hard facts and regained her ability to see the good things she still had in her life; to see the good things she still had a chance to take hold of, given the proper chance.

The blonde was able to stand with a clear mind as autumn took possession of Wiltshire and with that clarity; she finally gave Draco the care and attention he'd so willingly shown her during her darkest hours.

On December twenty-fifth, they were both prepared to take a leap of faith. And leapt they did, with a bundle of gifts in tow and a desperate hope that what they all once thought to be irreparable wasn't quite so broken after all.

*x*x*

Andromeda was incapable of hearing the first two knocks at her front door thanks to the wailing of a blue-haired eight-month-old. Teddy simply wouldn't lie for his afternoon nap and he only quieted after she lifted him from his crib and she pressed a dummy into his little mouth. She heard the third knock then and made her way toward the front door with her grandson held expertly against her hip. Molly had been by the day before so Andromeda couldn't imagine the woman had a reason to return so soon. She was still running through the list of possible visitors when she pulled the doorway open and looked upon the startled expressions on two unexpected faces. Her baby sister stood at the edge of her portcullis looking incredibly fragile. Her son, Draco stood beside her with his hand held against his mother's shoulder; whether to hold her attention or keep her standing wasn't clear.

Andromeda knew what day it was and the implications in their presence made it feel painful to breathe through the waves of crashing emotion that were suddenly let loose inside her. Certainly, the disenchanted sister felt a pang of resentment curling around her spine. They could have made this decision sooner and possibly saved her daughter from needing to sacrifice herself for the safety of their world. But she had to consider the fact that the two of them clearly chose to stand before her now of their own free will and that meant something. It would have meant something to her husband and to her daughter, Andromeda was certain of that. If Ted had found it in him to love her and Nymphadora found it possible to love a werewolf, they both would have already spread their arms to Narcissa and Draco rather than stand numbly as Andromeda did now. The silence was stifling as the three relatives looked at each other helplessly. Neither sister nor nephew knew what to say in order to break through the barriers that so clearly stood in the way.

It was the pleased shriek and gurgling laughter Teddy contributed as he gripped a swath of his grandmother's hair and tugged that drew the adults to a common point.

"Teddy," Andromeda said once her hair was her own again and she was certain her voice wouldn't betray her. "This is your great aunt Narcissa and your cousin Draco. Grandma hasn't seen her sister in many many years and this is her first time meeting her nephew and he's all grown up already."

Only sparing a glance for Draco who notably flushed at the comment, Andromeda resolutely stared at her grandson as she added, "Do you think we should let them in out of the cold and see what they have in that bag of theirs?"

Teddy let out another shriek that almost sent his dummy falling from his mouth as he clapped his hands haphazardly together and jerked his legs about enthusiastically, forcing Andromeda to tighten her hold. Whether he was truly pleased to see new relatives on the doorstep or simply taken with the swirling snowflakes that began to make their way in through the open door, no one could be certain but it was enough. Andromeda stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open for them as she spoke directly this time. "Remove your shoes and leave them on the mat there after you have the door shut. Then come through here. I'm going to put the kettle on."

Tea and a heap of patience was the only way Andromeda knew she would make it through this estranged encounter. That and the convenient distraction Teddy provided.

While Andromeda fussed over cups and kettle, Narcissa stood just inside and slowly took in her surroundings. The photograph she had held on to didn't give her any inclination to what the interior of her sister's home would look like. She had to expect it would be significantly smaller than any house she'd ever spent time in, but perhaps the lack of space made the home more comforting and inviting. Whatever she might have thought of it, the last thing she was going to do was look on the space Andromeda had created for herself with criticism and negativity.

When Narcissa looked at her son, Draco was watching her expectantly. She reminded herself that he was entirely without direction here. To him, he stood in the entranceway of a stranger who only happened to bear a remarkable resemblance to his late aunt. Though his self-confidence had greatly improved since their trials and subsequent house arrest, he wouldn't navigate this without her as his compass.

They divested themselves of their footwear and followed in the direction Andromeda had gone, listening to the sounds Teddy made. Just as they entered the kitchen space, the woman in possession of the baby turned and asked, "Do you still take two sugars with your tea, Narcissa?"

Narcissa nodded, a small smile finding its way across her lips. If her sister could recall something as small as how she liked her tea, then it stood to reason that she could remember the good memories they shared and forgive her for the moments that caused her pain. With time.

"And you, Draco?" A dark eyebrow arched as Andromeda took in the moment of shock and anxiety that crossed over her nephew's face before he drew a complacent mask over his features, a trick she was very familiar with, and answered her. The woman held no doubt that what she'd seen was a reaction borne of the similarities she shared with Bellatrix. The understanding lead Andromeda to briefly wonder what sort of relationship her sister had had with the young man.

Once the cups of tea were prepared and embraced by hands in need of something to hold, Andromeda ushered the two blondes into the den where she sat them and finally turned her attention to the bag Draco carried in with him.

"I'm going to assume that the bag you've brought has something to do with the holiday," Andromeda stated drily. Then she allowed herself a grin. The significance of the season, the holiday, and their presence in her home was not lost to Andromeda and when Draco began to pull items—decorations—out of the bag, the older sister felt a certain unnamable weight lift from her shoulders. If they had turned up on her front stoop with only flimsy words and broken smiles, Andromeda would have been less inclined to forge ahead with forgiveness and consideration in her heart. This deliberate peace offering, however, brought a sting of tears to her eyes as she found Narcissa's gaze.

There was tea, there were gifts of the season and there were numerous obstacles still yet to overcome but this was a pretty damn good start. The room wouldn't be a secret this time around, but it would be theirs to shape into the future they still had.


End file.
